


And You Find Out All The Pieces

by smc_27



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Diner!AU, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-29
Updated: 2015-09-29
Packaged: 2018-04-23 21:46:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4893499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smc_27/pseuds/smc_27
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She checks out his ass as he climbs up into the shiny black truck sitting out there in the morning sun, does some mental math and figures he just pushed her over $70 in tips this shift. </p><p>Thank you, eye candy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And You Find Out All The Pieces

The bell above the door chimes annoyingly like it does. Well. Like it does when Darcy doesn't have a chance to come in when the place is mostly empty and accidentally slam the door behind her, which is the one and only way to get it to shut the hell up, short of smashing the thing with a hammer.

But anyway. 

She's holding a coffee pot and talking to Roman, one of her regulars. He comes in every day at 7:45, sharp, orders a coffee and the breakfast special no matter what it is, and reads the newspaper headlines out loud even if no one's listening. She knows his deal - his wife died a few years back and he's got nowhere else to be and no one else to talk to - so she stands and talks to him when she can, when there aren't many tables of asshole truckers who think they're allowed to treat her like shit just because they're only passing through. 

The thing about working in this roadside diner is that it's a total piece of shit that serves up mediocre food, but it's the most profitable business in town (well, really, just outside of town) because it's just off the highway that leads straight to Canada. It's a major trucking route and their clientele is made up almost entirely of out-of-towners. There're a few locals, like Roman, or Chuck, or Barb and the ladies from the Methodist Church who meet here every Wednesday afternoon, but for the most part it's all just in and out, in and out. There's a motel across the parking lot, and pay showers in an adjacent building. Darcy stays the hell away from them, but she's told they're actually in decent repair. She knows Alice and John, the owners of this whole operation, keep the rest of the place shockingly clean. 

So yeah, she could get a job at the steakhouse on Main Street, but she makes more in tips in two days working at the diner than she would in a week there, and frankly, she's all about the money. She's not in this job 'cause she looks good in an apron.

And look, she can count on one hand the number of times she's looked up and actually _liked_ what she's seen walking through the door. 

Pretty sad that her standards are so skewed by this place that even the fact that this guy's _clean_ pings her radar. He's dressed in jeans and a tee shirt, like almost every other stranger who walks into this place, but has on a pair of dark brown leather boots and a pair of aviators that lead her to believe he might actually have some sense of style.

He glances around, slips his phone into his pocket, and heads for a stool at the counter. 

Yeah, he's insanely hot, and Darcy's actually feeling like she's a little happy to be in her 11th hour of an eight hour shift. Brenda called in (again) because her kid got suspended from school (again). Working the night shift is murder as it is. She's just trying to think of the extra tips she'll make covering the breakfast rush. 

"Can I get ya?" she asks shortly, flipping over the coffee cup in front of him. 

"Coffee's fine for now," he answers, then reaches for a menu. She looks at him and he smiles at her, which is just…It's nice, but she's not used to nice, so it throws her for a bit of a loop. "Thank you."

"I'll give you a few minutes to look over our fine selection of cardiac episode-enducing breakfast options. If you're lucky? I might even slip you an extra slice of Canadian bacon," she tells him, winking, then sliding the little plate of creamer and sugar towards him.

He laughs, opens his menu, and Darcy walks to the other end of the counter to talk to Roman, dropping the coffee pot off by the machine on the way. She'll have to make a new pot soon, but she's putting it off because she's feeling a little lazy. And Roman was just telling her about this trip he took to Austin with his wife after they were married, and it's her favourite kind of story.

She sees the new guy put his menu down, so she taps on the counter and gestures towards him, and Roman tilts his head, telling her to go. 

"Can I get an egg white omelette with spinach and…I dunno. Some ham?" the new guy asks, and Darcy tries not to heave a sigh.

"Nope," she says simply, and he looks totally confused. She points to the sign above the kitchen window that says NO SUBSTITUTIONS. "Sorry, pal, there really are only so many options to choose from."

The guy smiles and plays with his coffee cup, the stoneware clinking against the saucer. "Pancakes, then. Please."

"You got it." 

She calls the order back to the kitchen and looks over to see Roman getting up, dropping a $10 on the counter, just like he does every day. It's almost a $5 tip for her and she appreciates it. He sends her a wave and ambles out the door with his newspaper tucked under his arm. She walks over to clear his place at the counter, gives it a wipe down and checks on a few other tables. When the order is up, she heads back behind the counter and grabs the plate and a pot of maple syrup, sets both down in front of the handsome stranger. 

God, she's so lame even thinking of him like that. 

"Thank you," he says. And clearly, which is pretty damn rare in her world. Usually it's mumbled, or missing all together. 

"More coffee?"

"Please."

She pours for him, sets out making a new pot, which leaves her standing right in front of him, but with her back mostly to him. 

"So were you driving all night, or what?" she asks. 

He shakes his head, shoves a bite of pancakes into his mouth. "I drove through from New Brunswick. Stopped to sleep most of the night, then drove a while til I saw the sign for the diner. I've always loved a good diner."

Darcy finds herself smiling, because it sounds genuine, not like the shit some of these men say to her because they think it'll somehow woo her. Like she'll just slide her panties down her legs if they compliment the diner's meatloaf. Idiots. 

"New Brunswick. That's a pretty long haul."

"Mhm. I've only been driving a few months. Rookies get the shittiest runs." Darcy laughs and he gives her a lopsided smile, takes a sip of his coffee. 

"What'd you do before that?" she asks, not really wanting to pry, but thinking most people don't start a career driving a transport at the age of, like, 30. 

He looks up, sort of squints like he isn't sure how to tell her, or something. "I was in the Army?" he says, and she has no idea why it sounds like a question. "That's where I learned to drive rigs." His hand freezes right before he puts another bite in his mouth, then he lowers his fork again and looks straight at her. "I learned other stuff, too. I've just gotta save up a while. The goal's to be an architect."

Rudy and Marco Temperly walk in, and Darcy grabs the fresh pot of coffee. She knows these assholes from high school and they're just here to get endless refills of coffee for like two hours, and stare at her tits in her uniform.

"But for now you're living the life, right?" 

The new guy laughs and raises his coffee cup to her, and she thinks he somehow gets it, you know? Like, no, she doesn't want to be working here the rest of her life. She's just saving up so she can get the hell out of this town. No one here gets that or understands why anyone would want to leave, which is terrifying and sad all at once. It's really nice to meet someone who's got the same kind of plans she does. 

He asks for the bill when she gets back to the counter, and his plate is empty, so she doesn't bother asking how the pancakes were. Frankly, they're one of the more edible items on the menu. 

He pays with cash, tips her generously, and says, "Take care," just before he pushes the door open to walk back outside. 

She checks out his ass as he climbs up into the shiny black truck sitting out there in the morning sun, does some mental math and figures he just pushed her over $70 in tips this shift. 

Thank you, eye candy.

… … …

She's helping out in the kitchen because they're short staffed, and Brenda, Alice and Claire have the front covered. It's a Sunday, which is typically their busiest day of the week, and Jimmy, one of their cooks, just quit to start apprenticing as a mechanic. Which is great, or whatever, but he gave three hours' notice instead of two weeks. 

Darcy can fry eggs, butter toast, and spoon home fries onto plates. Brenda's useless at the best of times, and Claire can't stand working in the kitchen because the cooks use such foul language and it bothers her. Which is fine. Darcy doesn't mind a shift or two of not having to deal with shitty customers. Plus, when this happens, the other girls pool a percentage of their tips and share, so she doesn't miss out on much money, either. 

She's taking a short break, getting some fresh air, fucking around on her phone and trying to down this bottle of water in 15 minutes or less. She's sitting on a concrete barrier at the back of the parking lot because it's just about as far away from the front door as you can get without disappearing into the woods. Which some of the staff does when they want to smoke weed on their break and not get caught. Darcy isn't into that. She's just into customers not being able to see her and talk to her when she's trying to recharge for the rest of her shift. 

She hears a truck pulling in, but that's not exactly anything worth noting, since it happens every two and a half minutes in this place. She's just catching up on the latest Twitter war between two people she went to high school with when she hears someone call, "Hey," and feet crunching on the gravel.

Fuck. Maybe she should start taking her break in the woods. 

She looks up and sees that guy from a few weeks ago walking towards her, pale grey tee shirt stretched across his chest. And look, all she's saying is that she's never seen another guy in his profession who looks like he works out two hours a day. But then again, he was in the Army, so maybe…

Oh hell, whatever. He's built and she can't say she hates the way his arms look like they're about to split the seams of his sleeves.

"Hey," she calls back and sets her phone screen down on her lap. "How're you?"

"I'm doing well," he says with a smile. Fuck, all this _and_ good grammar? "You're on your break. I won't bother you. Just wanted to say hello."

Darcy honestly thinks he understands her more than anyone she's met in years, and she doesn't even know his goddamn name. 

He turns to walk towards the diner, but Darcy stops him, asking, "Are you this nice to everyone?" 

He shrugs his shoulder, grins a little. "I try to be." Darcy's looking at him like he's some kind of museum exhibit. "I'll see you inside?"

She shakes her head, crosses her legs one over the other. "I'm in the kitchen today."

"Really?" he asks, practically smirking. "You think you can slip me an egg white omelette?"

Darcy laughs out loud and reaches for her bottle of water. "Nice try."

He chuckles, juts his chin towards her, then heads off across the parking lot towards the door. 

… … …

She's having a truly shitty day, where everything about her miserable existence seems to be crescendoing in a glorious shitstorm of suck, and all she wants to do is go home, get into bed, watch Netflix and fall asleep for a couple days.

Seriously.

It's pouring rain. Like, really, really pouring, the kind of rain that happens in the fall that makes everything soggy and cold and doesn't let up for hours. Which is a bit of a mood-ruiner anyway, at least when you have to leave your house and can't just stay in drinking cocoa or whatever. 

That and the fact that her car wouldn't start this morning were enough to send her into a pretty foul mood. 

Look, she's grateful to her aunt for giving her this car when she took out a lease on a new Malibu and didn't need the old one, but, well, it's old, and things are starting to go wrong with it. Darcy maintains it pretty diligently, thinking that putting a few dollars into it here and there will prevent her from having to shell out for a massive repair. So this morning, going out to find that the engine wheezed and clunked and wouldn't turn over? Pretty damn frustrating. She asked her neighbour for a boost, but that did nothing. So now she's gonna have to pay for a tow and a repair, and that's going to take money out of her "Get The Fuck Out of This Town For Good" fund.

So yeah, she was cranky as fuck before she even got to work. She'd had to change out of her soaking wet uniform dress and find a different one, which is fine, 'cause she's got a few. She decided to be smart about this rain situation and wear jeans and a black tee shirt, then change when she got here. And she'd had to ask her neighbour for a ride, and yeah, she's thankful he was able to do it, but he cut it pretty close and she got to the diner a whopping four minutes before the start of her shift. Just enough time to change, pull her wet hair up, and pull on her apron.

20 minutes in to her shift, someone's shitty kid is running through the restaurant like it's a fucking McDonald's Play Place and bumps into her, sending the scalding hot spaghetti and meatballs directly into the front of her uniform and nearly burning her flesh.

She really just wants to crawl in a hole and cry at this point. 

Alice isn't too pleased that all Darcy has to wear is her jeans and tee shirt, but it's that or she goes home, so here she is with just her apron tied around her waist and her name tag pinned to her shirt. 

The hot truck driver walks in, and she sincerely hopes her day is about to get better instead of worse. Seriously, if anything humiliating happens to her in front of this guy, she might just give up and walk out of here. 

He looks her up and down, grins and takes a seat in front of her at the counter. "Hi. What happened to your uniform?" 

"Marinara," she answers, trying not to sound too curt. "Drink?" 

"Water, please." She grabs a glass and fills it up. "You look nice."

She takes a second to feel really good about that compliment. "Are you saying you don't like the polyester dress from 1975?"

He chuckles and shakes his head. "Just noting the differences."

Darcy raises her eyebrow. The difference is this is a v-neck tee shirt that shows off her chest, and a pair of jeans that actually make it look like she's got some kind of shape. 

"I'm having like, a remarkably crappy day, so compliments are encouraged."

He smiles, then glances down at his menu. "What's up?" Darcy just looks at him until his attention is on her again. "I mean, besides the food on your uniform."

See, she can't tell if he actually wants to know, or if he's just being polite. And that's a pretty solid skill to have, you know? Like, to be so genuine all the time that people can't tell when you're not.

Ugh. She's being stupid. 

"Just a lot of stuff all at once," she says, because really, she doesn't have the time to stand here and fill him in. It's not crazy busy, but they don't pay her to stand around and talk to "How are you, though?"

"Tired," he tells her, and she just waits for more. She grabs a box of napkins and sets out refilling dispensers, which is what she was about to start when he walked in. So maybe she can just talk to him as long as she's doing something productive, too. "This is my seventh day in a row."

"Jesus," she mutters, brow furrowed. "Why?"

He shrugs. "The logistics person at the company I work for is terrible and keeps screwing up runs. I offered to cover a couple."

"Again. Why? Don't you like sleep?"

He chuckles a bit and plays with the straw in his water glass. "The money's good."

Darcy nods, uses the tip of her ballpoint pen to cut through the tape on a new box of napkins. "I know that feel."

"Yeah?" he asks, and Darcy just laughs. "Sorry. I'm not trying to be insulting."

She waves him off and wonders if he's actually going to order anything. "I work six days a week. I'm saving up, myself. You think I wanna stay in this prosperous metropolis the rest of my life? Hell no. I'm gonna move to New York."

The smile on his face is big, and he leans one arm on the counter, which pushes him towards her a bit. "Really?" Darcy nods. "That's where I live."

She's not some dumb kid and this isn't a 50's movie, so it's not like she's going to swoon or something, or ply him with questions about the city. Jesus, she's been there like, 10 times. How else would she know that's where she wants to live? 

But it does feel good to know they've got something else to talk about. Not that it's been difficult so far. 

He orders a club sandwich with a side salad, and Darcy's pulled away when a group of six comes in and decides to act like a bunch of high maintenance douchebags. Like, this isn't the fucking Tavern On The Green. If you want a fine dining experience, maybe you don't go to a place that's open 24 hours and has sparkly vinyl booths. 

She gets back to the counter in time to see him drop his napkin onto his plate and reach for his wallet, and Darcy clears his plate and grabs his cheque. 

"Listen, what's your name?" she asks, sliding the piece of paper towards him. 

"Steve," he says with a little smile, hands her $15 and waves his hand when she reaches for change from her apron. 

"I'm Darcy."

He grins, stands, slips his wallet into his back pocket. Pointing at her name tag, prominently displayed over her left boob, he says, "I know."

She feels her cheeks burning up, maybe out of embarrassment, but maybe a little bit because he just let her know he's spent at least some time staring at her chest, and he wasn't very subtle about that.

"I'll see you later," she says, grabs the rag to wipe down the counter. 

"See ya, Darcy."

She spends way too much time wondering why he's never said her name before, since he's known it all along. 

… … …

She's pumping gas and shaking her butt to Shoop as it plays on the shitty speakers at this gas station, because it's a Saturday and she's got the day off and that just _never happens_ , so she's got plans to enjoy it. Those plans include driving out to this trail her mom always used to take her to, hiking up to this lookout spot, having a couple beers and looking out over the valley. It's the best time of year to head up there anyway, because there are fewer tourists and the fall colours are like, amazing. Upstate New York might not be all that prosperous, but it is beautiful, if you stop and look at it long enough to notice. 

She's got a backpack tossed onto the front seat of her car with snacks and beer and a bunch of water. Her hair's down because it looked fucking stellar this morning and she wanted to take advantage of it. And she's wearing her Columbia hiking shoes, a pair of khaki army-style pants she's had since high school, and a grey tee shirt. She thinks she looks awesome and doesn't give a shit if anyone disagrees.

It's only 8:00, and she can already tell it's going to be a great day. She'll grab a coffee from Dunkin' Donuts on the way out of town, enjoy the hour and a half drive, then breathe some fresh air and have a blast feeling so far away from work and her day-to-day life. 

Someone clears their throat behind her just as she's rapping, "Brother, wanna thank your mother for a butt like that."

She spins around, hair sticking to her lip balm, and sees Steve standing there with his arms crossed, looking _way_ too amused.

"Of course," she says, and he chuckles and takes a few steps her way. "You _would_ be standing right there." He leans against the concrete post near the pump, and seriously? No one should look _that_ good just standing there. "I usually charge for performances, but I'm feeling generous today. You're welcome."

"An honour," he says, and her tank's full, so she replaces the nozzle on the pump and twists her gas cap back into place. "I gotta say, I was a little disappointed when you weren't at the diner this morning."

Squinting against the sun, Darcy says, "That makes one of us." 

"Yeah, of course," he says, gesturing to her with his hand. "Everyone deserves a day off. I just…I dunno. I thought maybe you'd skipped town."

He actually sounds like he's scared he'll walk in one day and someone'll tell him she's gone and moved to the city. It makes her feel a little fuzzy, to be honest. He's like, amazingly attractive, and so nice, and he's…Well, she doesn't know what he is. But there's _this_ , too, this easy thing between them that makes her want to give him her number or something. She almost thinks they're friends. She doesn't really have many of those. 

"Not yet," she says, smiling, and leans against her car.

"So, um." He looks her up and down, but not in a rude or judgmental way. "What's the plan for your day off?"

She almost doesn't want to say it, afraid it'll sound too lame or something, but she's doing this thing where she tries not to care what he thinks about her, so. 

"Just a little hike."

He furrows his brow. "You hike?"

She shrugs her shoulder. "Sometimes. My mom and I used to go together. I…I dunno, it's just nice to do it every once in a while."

"Your mom, she's…"

It's like he knows without her having to say it. 

"She died five years ago."

He reaches out and puts his hand on her upper arm. She's a little surprised, but she doesn't really mind. "Darcy, I'm sorry."

She shakes her head, because it's nothing for him to apologize for; it's not like her mom's cancer could really be blamed on anyone. She's mostly come to terms with it, after a shit load of therapy and some major life changes. Notably, breaking up with a jackass who thought she should 'just get over it' and treated his own mom like such a piece of crap Darcy was legitimately personally offended. 

Anyway. She's fine, really. Steve might be able to tell.

"I don't want to keep you," he says after a few moments. "And I've gotta get back on the road."

"New York awaits?" she asks, and he grins at her, shakes his head. 

"Quebec City."

Darcy raises her brow and says, "Ooh la la," and Steve laughs at her, which she sort of loves. "Drive safely?"

"Yeah," he says, runs his hand down her arm and gives her hand a squeeze. "Of course. You too?"

She nods once. "You got it." He looks her up and down again. She really can't say she hates the way he does it. "What?"

He lets out this little breath, shakes his head quickly like he can't believe he has to tell her, or something. 

"You look really hot right now, is all."

She feels her cheeks burning again, which is so stupid because as far as compliments go, that's almost the most tame one she's ever gotten. But it's coming from him, and fuck it, she _likes_ him. 

"Steve," she says, and it comes out sort of quietly. 

He winks, gives her a quick wave and heads back across the parking lot. Darcy gets into her car and lets out a long breath when she realizes she really would have loved to have been able to invite him to join her. 

Yeah, that's how bad she's got it; she was ready to invite a perfect stranger to join her alone in the woods.

She's lost her fucking mind.

… … …

She's working the overnight shift when he walks through the door looking exhausted and sits himself down at the counter, like usual. There are three customers in here, only one of which is hers - Claire's covering the other tables - and Darcy's been nursing a cup of coffee and texting with her friend who lives in San Francisco and hasn't gone to bed yet. 

Looking at Steve's a bit more appealing than staring at her phone. 

"I didn't think you'd be here," he says, and the thing is, Darcy realizes she knows him well enough at this point to know when he sounds happy. 

"Yep." She holds up the coffee pot in offering. He shakes his head no. "Don't look now," she whispers, leaning towards him, "but they've got my ankle chained to the counter back here."

He barks out a laugh and squeezes her hand once over the counter before letting it go. "How's the escape plan coming?" 

Darcy pours him a glass of water because she wants something to do to make herself look busy. Which is ridiculous, really, because it's 1:30 in the morning and there's hardly anyone around.

"You wouldn't happen to have a metal grinder, would ya? Bolt cutters?" 

Steve grins and shakes his head. "I actually meant the New York plan," he clarifies, and she feels stupid for a moment. Just long enough for him to grab a menu and glance at her again for an answer. 

So, the thing is, she's got enough money to move. She's got more than enough actually. She's just scared shitless that she won't get a job right away or something, and she'll end up blowing through her money just trying to keep herself alive or whatever. Like, if she gets there and gets a job waitressing or tending bar right off the bat, she'll be fine. But there are no guarantees of that, even with the revolving-door of the service industry. So she wants to have a cushion just in case. God, the only thing worse than never getting out of this fucking town would be getting out and then having to _come back_.

"I'm…Close, I think," she admits, looking down at the counter. There's a speck of red polish from a few weeks ago when she polished her nails when the place was empty and accidentally got some on the counter. No one else noticed but her. She's been picking at it ever since, trying to see if it'll budge. Shit, if her manicures lasted that long, she'd he a happy girl. 

"How close?"

She glances up at him, trying to figure out why he wants to know so badly. "About a month, maybe?" she whispers. Hell no, she doesn't need anyone who works here knowing she's planning on getting the fuck out as soon as she feels she's ready. 

"That's really soon," he says happily. God, he's like a golden retriever. "Any idea where you'll live?"

Okay, if he's trying to get her really excited, he's doing a bang-up job. 

"Brooklyn. I mean, that's where I've been looking." She says it like she hasn't been planning this move for like, three years. Or longer. It's just…She's never been this close. She hasn't had it easy and shit always kept coming up that stopped her from actually doing it. That's sort of why she has a hard time talking about it; she's afraid she'll jinx it. "What?"

Seriously, he's got this look on his face that…

"If you move to Brooklyn, we might be neighbours."

This fire sparks in the pit of her stomach and makes her want to reach across the counter and grab onto his shirt, drag him towards her so she can kiss him. 

Well. That's inappropriate.

"You don't say," she comments, and Steve smiles again and takes a sip of his water. 

He orders the pancakes again, and she slips him a bit of milkshake when she accidentally overfills the blender and makes too much for someone at her other table. It's strawberry. Steve looks oddly adorable sipping pink milkshake through a straw while he eats his pancakes. He tells her he's gotta get some sleep, so he's gonna get back into his truck and catch a few hours in the bunk as he's parked in the lot outside the diner. Darcy does this stupid thing where she wonders what he wears to bed.

When he's done his pancakes, she reaches for his plate to clear it and she's just looking at him as he reaches for his wallet. 

"Steve."

"Yeah," he says, pulling out some cash. 

"Why do you keep coming back here?" she asks, standing up straight with her hands on the counter. "The food's not even good."

He sets the bills on the counter and stands up, leans towards her a bit, his fist resting on the formica. 

"Darcy," he says in this tone that makes her…All she can do is hum in response. He grins a little and she thinks she may actually die a little. "I don't come for the food."

He said that like a secret, and Darcy likes it so much she can't say anything more, just lets him walk out the door and wonders if she'll still be here if he pops back in in the morning before he gets back on the road.

(She isn't. He's still sleeping when she gets into her car at 6:00 am so she can go home. She just drives past his truck and tries not to think too much about him until she's home alone in bed.)

… … …

She packs a couple boxes, because she needs to convince herself, confirm to herself, that she's actually leaving. Not tomorrow. Not even next week. It's just this jackass who comes in a couple times a week and is a total townie said something deliberately shitty about how she's gearing up to spend the rest of her life here, just like the rest of them. It seriously almost made her cry, which is just a little too pathetic for her liking. 

So fuck him. She drives to the Home Depot in the closest city, gets a bunch of boxes and tape, and starts on the process of packing up her small apartment before she's even got a place to live in New York. 

She's actively looking now, has a broker and everything. Yeah, she's stressing the fuck out. 

It's busy at work when Steve comes in next. There're no spots at the counter, not even one, and he finds an empty table in Brenda's section, which sucks for Darcy, because she was just thinking about how it's been a while since she saw him and…It's weird, but she realized what she was feeling was worry. She cares about him enough to worry when she doesn't see him. God, she's got it so bad for him.

Then again, their last few interactions have left her feeling like he's got it pretty bad for her, too. 

She's slammed the whole time he's in the diner, so she doesn't even get a chance to go over and say hi. She sends a smile his way and he shoots one back, but that's hardly the kind of contact she wants with him. 

No, that's more the naked, sweaty, him on top of her kind. But that's just getting real specific. 

He walks out after paying his bill and giving her a little wave, and Darcy is totally messed up over the fact that she feels _so disappointed_ that she didn't get to talk to him at all. 

… … …

She's found a place in a decent building in Brooklyn, so her bank account is feeling slightly less padded, after paying the security deposit and her first month's rent. She's still not worried yet about money, and she's been looking for jobs and applying to a few. She's not unemployable, okay? She's got a degree in interior design from a college a few towns over. It's just when her mom got sick, she moved home to take care of her and never really kicked off her career. It'll be fucking difficult to break into that field in New York, but Darcy knows she'll ace any interview she gets - she's charming - and she doesn't mind working some sucky job until she finds something better. Hello, look at the last several years of her life. 

It's been three weeks since Steve was last in the diner, and that's longer than she's gone without seeing him since the first time he came in. The really messed up thing is he's the one she wants to tell all this to. Her friends are excited for her, but none of them really get her desire to be in New York. They're scattered all over, most of them somewhere upstate just like her. God, most of them are married. It's not like they're just picking up and moving anywhere right now. She thinks Steve gets it. 

And he's nice to look at, and she's missing that, too. 

She's just coming to the end of her Saturday shift and she couldn't be happier that in 20 minutes she'll get to take this damn apron off, drive home, have a shower, and relax. She feels like now that she's got an actual move date set, she just doesn't give a shit about work and has to struggle to get through it. 

She's standing at the counter with a mug of coffee in her hands when the sun sends a glare off a motorcycle pulling into the parking lot. She doesn't think anything of it, because there're tons of motorcyclists passing through these days, taking their last rides before putting their bikes away for the winter. 

But then the guy takes his helmet off, and it's fucking _Steve_ , and he sets the helmet on the bike and unzips his leather jacket as he walks towards the door.

Goodamit, he just seems to do everything so right. 

He walks right towards her, gives her a smile. She's trying to keep herself from just blurting out that she's done in 20 minutes and it'd be in his best interest to come home with her. 

"Hi. What are you doing here?" she asks. Steve sits down and places his hand over hers. Probably because she kept playing with the handle of her coffee cup and he was scared she was going to break it. 

"Just taking a ride." A ride five hours upstate? Darcy just stares at him. He lets out a breath and looks down at the counter, then back up at her. "I wanted to see you."

"You know, Steve," she says, leaning forward on her elbows. He just grins like he can't wait to hear whatever smartass thing is gonna come out of her mouth. She sort of loves that, too. "You aren't exactly playing hard to get."

"Darcy." She feels like she might actually combust if he says her name like that one too many times. "I'm not trying to be hard to get."

She mutters, "Jesus," and ignores him when he laughs. 

"I'm not driving anymore," he tells her, and she feels this pang of disappointment, even though she's not going to be here much longer, either. In some twisted way, she thinks his regular visits sort of helped push her through these last couple months. "I got into the course I wanted. It's just a year, then I can start at a firm."

"That's really great," she says sincerely, chews the inside of her lip a little. He reaches for a menu, but…Look, the thing is, she really does want to take him home with her. "Don't order anything."

"What?"

She takes the menu from him, tries to speak as quietly as possible so no one else can hear her. She may be leaving and she hopes to never see some of them again, but that wouldn't make it okay for her to know her business. 

"I'm going home in 15 minutes. You're coming with me."

Steve gets this grin on his face that can only be described as _dirty_.

The drive to her apartment is pretty fucking difficult, because he's following behind her on his bike and he looks so damn good it's a struggle to keep her eyes on the road instead of on him in the rearview. 

He's behind her, his hand on her hip, as she unlocks the door and pushes it open. She hangs her keys on this little chalkboard key holder her mom always had hanging in their house. She's trying to distract herself from the fact that he's standing here inside her house and she's kicking off her shoes. Yeah, she's exhausted from work, but she's got this weird adrenaline rush coursing through her that's making her feel all jittery. 

Steve toes off his boots and takes off his jacket. He takes hers from her and hangs it in the closet. Which she'd think was weird, but he's closer and also like, freakishly calm right now. 

They walk into the living room, and she's just about to offer him something to drink when she turns around and sees him staring at the pile of boxes and suitcases in the corner. 

"Darcy," he says all quietly, then gets this smile on his face that's so genuinely happy she can't even react, other than to just shrug her shoulders. 

He takes her face in his hands and presses his lips to hers. It catches her off guard just enough that she hesitates a second before reaching up to put her hands on his waist. He rests his forehead against hers, and that's very sweet, this is all very sweet, but she's pretty sure she's been wet since the second she saw him get off that motorcycle a half hour ago. 

She reaches up to unbutton the top of her uniform, but he covers her hands with his. What the _hell_. 

"If you don't..." she starts, but then he's chuckling softly and the tips of his fingers are making circles on the back of her hand. So she stops talking. 

"I'm not in a rush," he tells her. She feels her breathing speed up. "And I've wanted to undress you for months."

She kisses him, because damn, that was just the right thing to say, and then when they're in her bedroom and he's leaning over her as she lies back on her bed, he pushes the hair off her face and her hands are on his arms. She's fucking terrified, because this is definitely more than just a hookup. It has been all along, and now she's moving to New York and he's actually going to be there instead of on the road somewhere different every day. There's actually something here between them, and Darcy thinks they've both realized that. 

Instead of saying anything, she presses her hips up and says his name, and he lets out this sound she loves and licks up into her mouth. His hand moves up the back of her thigh, and she isn't sure she thinks another coherent thought for at least an hour.

… … …

There's a really, _really_ irritating buzzing sound coming from the other side of her apartment, and Darcy sits up in bed and glares. They're coming to set up her internet today, but they said that'd be between 3:00 and 5:00, and it's fucking 8:00 am, according to her phone when she smashes her thumb against the button to light up the screen. She's _freezing_ 'cause she hasn't figured out the best setting for the heating yet, considering she's lived here for exactly one day now. She grabs the hoodie she was wearing last night before getting into bed, pulls it on over her tank top and zips it most of the way up. 

She hits the button to let whoever's buzzing into the building, then feels like a complete space cadet for not _asking who it was_ first. She's lived in New York for a day, and she's about to get murdered in her own apartment. 

Perfect. 

There's a knock at the door and she's trying to convince herself she may have enough survival skills to make it out of this mess. When she looks through the peep hole she feels her heart rate spike again and wrenches the door open. 

Steve's standing there with a potted plant in one hand and a tray holding two coffees and bagels in the other. He's so sweet she thinks she might puke.

Also, she hasn't seen him since weeks ago when he woke up in her bed and told her he had to go, but insisted they trade numbers, then addresses. 

"Thought I'd bring you coffee for a change," he says, and he sounds _nervous_ , and Darcy grabs him by the shirt and leans up on her toes to kiss him. He makes this sort of startled sound from deep in his throat that makes her want to take her sweater right back off and shed the rest of her clothes with it. She leans back, blinks up at him, and he just sort of grins at her, which isn't helping. 

"Good call." She pulls the door open wider and steps aside to let him in. 

"Apparently." He sets the plant on the counter in her kitchen, then hands her a cup with her initial on the side and she takes a sip as soon as she has a good grip on it. "I thought you might want to hang out today. I can show you around the neighbourhood."

He's so sincere, so sweet, and he actually really genuinely wants to spend time with her. She wasn't necessarily worried about how this would work once she got here - they've been texting daily and he called her yesterday before she left - but it's nice to hear anyway. And yeah, she's been picturing him naked since she opened the door and saw him standing there. 

"Sounds good," she says, and the smile on his face makes her feel a little off-balance. She walks over, slips her arm around his waist and lets herself do the girly thing and closes her eyes when he pulls her against him a bit more. "Steve?"

"Yeah?"

"You do realize we're going to end the day in my bed, though, right?"

He chuckles a little and Darcy glances up at him. He's a little pink in the cheeks, but it looks damn good on him. 

"I mean, I was hoping."

Darcy moves so she's standing in front of him, slips her hand under his shirt at his side so she's touching his skin. His palm flattens at the small of her back, pressing her against him. She certainly doesn't mind. 

"Good."

It's only been a day, but it's hard to think of this apartment as anything but home when she's standing here with him like this. She's not going to say that out loud. Not yet.


End file.
